A Wizard's Guide to Muggle Flying
by thewishingwell
Summary: Draco's first plane ride lands him in a potentially awkward situation. Good thing Malfoys don't do awkward.
1. Chapter 1

Draco's left hand twitched murderously on the armrest. Leave it to Blaise to think this wretched "airplame" would be a bloody adventure. He was never making travel plans again. Draco tried to drown out the sound of the flight attendant's high-pitched giggling as Blaise turned up the charm. Trust Blaise to try something on a mad muggle contraption. They were flying across an ocean in a scrap of metal that, according to Blaise, was holding them and a hundred other people in the air by something that was _not _magic.

_The girl's easy on the eyes, but you can't put a paper bag over a voice._ Having made his judgment, Draco fidgeted in his seat, shifting his too long legs against the seat in front of him. Hearing the middle-aged Muggle woman in front of him sigh loudly, he gritted his teeth and resisted shoving his feet as far as he could into the compressed space.

Blaise and him were returning to London after a fairly successful business trip to Italy. He should've Portkeyed back.

The flight attendant tittered and Draco's hand twitched again—this time for his wand, which was concealed in his carry-on. The Muggles would notice if the girl lost her voice suddenly though, and Draco was loathe to cause a scene—though the stupid bint deserved it, in his opinion.

"Sir!" The girl gasped, patting her bun self-consciously. "I assure you that is entirely indecent. I'm shocked you would ask such a thing."

"Love, the only thing indecent between the two of us is how you're teasing me." Blaise flashed his grin.

_I could put him out of his misery as well._ Malfoys did not stoop to acknowledge such infantile behavior.

The girl whispered something into Blaise's ear before turning to the people seated across the aisle, giving Blaise an eyeful while she bent over to check on the other passengers. Draco rolled his eyes, inwardly of course, at her over-the-top brazenness. As she wandered off back down the aisle, Blaise elbowed Draco.

"I'm about to join the 'Mile High Club,' my friend."

"What are you prattling on about?" Draco really didn't understand where Blaise was getting all of these inane Muggle terms.

"Sex on a plane. It's a Muggle cultural taboo. Mate, this flying thing is fantastic. I'm a genius for setting this up." Blaise sat up in his seat to glance back at the flight attendant, who was slipping into one of the toilets. "Don't wait up."

Malfoy grunted to acknowledge his friend's departure.

_There's a lad who lets the second head drive._

Five minutes later, Draco moved over to the aisle and turned back to see where Blaise had gone off to. _Really. Sex in a toilet._

Fifteen minutes later, Draco Draco decided that _airplames_ were torture devices. The silence was killing him. He almost wished for an over-friendly flight attendant, but he really wasn't that desperate. He flicked through the magazines in the seat in from of him. _No moving pictures. Muggles really are quite primitive._

Just as he was considering going for his wand to help the plane along, something across the aisle caught his eye.

_A Muggle's Guide to Magical Maladies and Practice._

The man holding the book was decidedly Muggle, Draco thought. No doubt about that. He was pointing excitedly at the pages and talking in low tones to what Draco assumed to be his Muggle wife. Startled, Draco looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this decidedly ordinary couple reading an extraordinary book. He wasn't opposed to a little bending of Magic law, but wasn't this a security issue. _Aren't there people for this?_ With his general lack of patience, Draco also had a maddening curious streak, which decided to rear its head.

"Dear, look at what they've done here. They have some sort of magical sealant that they apply to _all_ newborns. No cavities! Think of it! A world without root canals! Well that'd put me out of business!"

Draco had no idea what this Muggle was talking about, but he had said "magical" which prompted him to interject.

"Pardon me for the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice your book." The couple bristled. "What I mean to say is that you'd be hard pressed to find a book like that in an _airplame_."

The couple stared at Draco. He felt the silent tension in their appraising gaze. The Muggle man's bushy eyebrows had all but disappeared into his hairline. The woman seemed familiar to Draco, despite the fact that she looked just like every other brown-haired Muggle woman. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The man finally broke the silence.

"Son, did you say 'airplame'?"

"Well, yes. My friend, Blaise, convinced me this was a sane mode of transportation. I honestly don't know how people do this."

"Dear." The woman put her hand on her husband's arm, smiling. "He's a wizard."

The man's brow relaxed in understanding.

"Well, that's a relief. For a moment there I thought we had blown our cover."

Draco put on his most charming smile.

"Your secret is safe with me. But if I could ask, how did you come across such a book?"

The couple smiled at each other.

"Well, you see, our daughter sent us this book as a gift, and we haven't quite found the time to read it. She's a _wizard_, you see." The woman smiled proudly.

"How charming." The couple beamed. "You must be very proud of your daughter."

Draco's brow creased in thought. How odd that he would meet a muggleborn wizard's parents in an airplame of all places. Was this sort of thing commonplace with such types of transportation?

The woman leaned over her husband.

"Well she's just about your age it seems. Maybe you know her…"

"Mum, you're not trying to set me up some poor bloke on a plane."

Draco froze. He knew that voice. It'd been five years since he had heard it. The person sleeping in the window seat past the couple shifted and turned to face the conversation, pulling a sleeping mask over a headfull of bushy brown hair.

"I'm so sorry. They really mean well—" Hermione Granger choked on her words as she saw the person who her parents had been chatting with. She rubbed her eyes, trying to blink away the image of Draco Malfoy chatting with her parents on an airplane of all places.

Draco thought she looked rather harmless, cute even, with her sleepy-eyes--but he knew better.

"Chipmunk, this charming young man noticed the book you gave us. He's a wizard too. Actually we didn't get your name, darling." Hermione's mother looked expectantly at Draco, who opened his mouth.

"_Draco Malfoy_." Hermione had passed from shock to seething in the span of a few seconds.

"Guilty," Draco smirked at his former classmate. _Well, this is interesting_.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or the original plot from the _Harry Potter_ franchise.

Chapter 2:

Contrary to popular belief, Hermione Granger was not a morning person. Sure, she had been the first one to the Great Hall each morning for breakfast, but her time at Hogwarts had been carefully managed in order to hide the simple fact that Hermione was a mess in the morning.

And to say that she was shocked to see her former classmate was a vast understatement. When she had been living in London, she had always expected to turn a corner in Diagon Alley and find Malfoy ready with a disparaging comment. And as much as she had been validated by her personal achievements, Hermione had been somewhat relieved when she left London and the possibility of seeing Malfoy on the street.

Following graduation, Hermione had accepted an offer to develop medicinal potions at a lab in France. This time had allowed her to live away from the media storm that swarmed the Order of the Phoenix following the Fall. True to form, Hermione had been the first to recover from the War and the first to take her NEWTs and officially graduate. Before Rita Skeeter and the other vultures had had a chance to reorganize, Hermione had slipped away into relative obscurity.

Though she'd stayed in contact with Harry and Ginny by owl, she had mostly detached herself from the goings-on in Wizard London—a fact that she somewhat regretted now that she was faced with her former tormentor.

She knew that the Malfoy name had been undergoing some changes while she had been away. Both Harry and Ginny had mentioned the aristocrat in passing, but they had stopped when it became clear that any mention of Malfoy would trigger a Hermione rant reminiscent of their Hogwarts years. The last thing Hermione wanted to hear was how that jumped-up little ferret had, in Harry's words, "really made a place for himself in society" or, in Ginny's words, weasled his way into "every female wizard's fantasy." Had wizarding society truly been allowed to fall into such a decline?

Malfoy had aligned himself with the Light following the death of his parents at the hands of their Lord and joined the Order at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Logically Hermione understood the unlikelihood of Malfoy betraying the Order—Harry would not risk another member of his family after the death of Sirius their 3rd year—but reason did little to soothe her own anxiety about the matter.

Malfoy, himself, seemed quite willing to provoke her. It seemed that he had not forgotten the punch from 3rd year. Together their fights nearly brought down Grimmauld Place. Malfoy's _laissez-faire_ attitude about the war effort bothered Hermione more than Harry's silence and withdrawal or Ron's late night disappearances to muggle pubs. Malfoy's provocation of Hermione combined with her own fatigue and frayed nerves would cause her to lose control of herself in a way that irked her to no end.

Hermione shook herself, trying to push away the anxiety she was feeling about seeing Malfoy again. That was a dangerous path to go down. _Wait! Where was Malfoy?_ Hermione blushed, realizing she had been staring at the blonde ferret for an unacceptable length of time telling by the unforgivable smirk on his face. Her mother gave her a knowing look, causing Hermione's blush to deepen as she realized the full gravity of the situation she had woken up to. She was trapped in the window seat of an airplane flight with her parents _and_ her worst enemy, who just happened to be Witch Weekly's "Most Eligible Bachelor" for five years running. She saw that gleam in her mother's eyes.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Just over a half an hour, dear." Hermione's mother looked too delighted that they were stuck on the plane for another hour. "Mr. Malfoy was just asking us about your book. I take it you two know each other from Hogwarts?"

"Please call me, Draco." The Slytherin offered smoothly, not shaken by the mention of their school years. "I have to say I teased Hermione quite a bit back in the day, but you can hardly make light of a published author. You must be so proud."

Her parents beamed, and Hermione knew she had lost them for the time being. She would have been shocked by his compliments if not for the challenge in his grey eyes.

"Malfoy." She smiled tightly. "I didn't know that a man of your station would deign to fly on an airplane with all of the muggles."

"Chipmunk! What a way to speak to a fellow classmate. It's no wonder at all that you've barely kept in contact with any of your Hogwarts friends with that tone." Hermione closed her eyes in frustration at her mother scolding her like she was a teen again.

"Yes, Chipmunk." Malfoy joined in with barely concealed amusement. "And since we have so much free time, do tell. Where has Hermione Granger been hiding all of these years?"

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch. Five minutes had passed.

_I must be in hell. Welcome home, Hermione_.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or the original plot from the _Harry Potter_ franchise.

Sorry this took so long & thanks for waiting!

Chapter 3:

Somewhere over the northern French countryside in a passenger airplane hurtling towards London, a witch's hand twitched on the armrest of a window seat as she avoided the sidelong gaze of her childhood tormentor. The high road had never seemed so far away.

Hermione was employing some deep-breathing techniques to get herself under control. She resented that Malfoy had put her right back into adolescence. Her parents had been drawn over to the dark side easily enough, leaving her to sulk with all of the dignity of a wet kitten. He, on the other hand, seemed to have taken it all in stride.

She thought back to Grimmauld. Malfoy had been a living skeleton—a consequence of the stress and malnourishment they had all been forced to cope with during the dark days of the war. Malfoy, with his almost-translucent skin and the dark circles under his eyes, had cut out an especially tortured figure. Not that any of them had gone out of their way to help. The last thing Malfoy ever wanted was to be indebted to anyone in the house.

What had happened while she was gone?

Hermione was pulled out of her inner monologue by the unholy union of her mother's girlish giggles and an unwelcome throaty masculine laugh.

"Our other classmates had seen dismembered hands and mummies and her Boggart told her that she'd failed all of her classes."

"That's our girl." Her father guffawed proudly. To her horror, he reached out and patted Hermione's head affectionately . "Our studious little Chipmunk. She was so happy when that letter from Hogwarts came."

"I imagine she couldn't contain herself." Malfoy was enjoying himself too much. He was practically radiating smugness.

"You know our Hermione. She had every book on witchcraft out of the library that summer. She even tried a few Wiccan spells, but none of them worked, did they Poppet? Right depressed, you were about that."

"Sort of like that first flying lesson, eh Granger?" Malfoy's eyes gleamed with a unique and sadistic brand of joy. She didn't understand how he seemed to remember her failures in school so clearly. Oh, right. He was Malfoy.

Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks. This could not be tolerated. This was _in_tolerable. She struggled to find the words to shut his infernal mouth and felt herself spluttering.

"I-I-I cannot belie—Malfoy! I swear to G—MUM! Stop!"

Her distress only seemed to increase her mother and Malfoy's glee. They were beginning to attract attention from other passengers. She was debating pretending she had fallen asleep for the remainder of the flight, when a distinctively masculine voice interrupted her mother and Malfoy's lovefest.

"I pop off to the loo for a moment, and you've managed to start the party without me! And with Muggles!"

Hermione recognized this new intrusion in her life. Blaise Zabini had passed through the War relatively unaffected thanks to an ancestral tradition of neutrality, and it seemed like he had also improved himself in the Post-War era. He was fixing his tie as he slid into his seat next to Draco, and seemed to have missed Hermione's presence in her squashed window seat across the aisle.

Malfoy leaned over to his seatmate, and Hermione sighed in relief. It seemed like little had actually changed—Malfoy wouldn't allow himself to be seen conversing with a Mudblood in front of his friends and equals.

Hermione's mother leaned over her father to whisper conspiratorially to her.

"Is this _another_ classmate of yours? He looks to be about you and Draco's age. Well they are both quite fit, don't you think, darling?"

While she tried to absorb the fact that her mother was on first name basis with Malfoy, her father patted Hermione's twitching knee comfortingly. Hermione settled back into her seat and concentrated on breathing deeply.

"GRANGER?" Blaise's usually controlled voice had risen a few octaves, causing the woman in front of Hermione to jerk awake. "Hermione Granger is on our flight?"

She winced at the mention of her name, wishing her seat would swallow her.

Blaise's admittedly handsome face popped out of the aisle.

"Cor! Granger, where have you been? You look stunning, love!" Hermione tried to force her face into something that resembled pleasant surprise. "Is this your family?"

Hermione glanced at Draco and saw that his face had rearranged itself into formal neutrality. Blaise turned his attention to Hermione's mother.

"I never knew Hermione had a sister. Helping her move back to London, then? I have a very large moving van in my employment if you need assistance of _any_ kind." Blaise winked at Mrs. Granger and kissed her hand playfully.

Hermione felt her lunch roll over in her stomach. Even Draco closed his eyes in irritation.

"Watch it, Sprout." Hermione's father laughed at the younger man's flirtations. Blaise smiled easily.

"No offense meant, Sir. I should express my envy that you should be sandwiched between two lovely ladies whilst I'm stuck with Draco over here."

Hermione noticed that Draco seemed just as irritated at Blaise's entrance as she was—an observation she gleaned from the tension in his brow and his slightly pursed lips. If she weren't mistaken, he seemed rather uncertain about how to proceed with his best friend present. She felt rather smug. _See him try to embarrass me now that he has to uphold the Malfoy countenance. _

"Anyways, Granger. What are you doing on this flight of all flights? Draco said you were off doing something dreadfully boring with potions in France last time he'd heard."

Brown eyes snapped up to meet grey. Hermione felt the power struggle shift in her favor.

"Keeping tabs on me, Malfoy?"


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or the original plot from the _Harry Potter_ franchise.

Thanks for all of the kind reviews! It's a huge motivator for me!

Chapter 4:

_Previously:_

Brown eyes snapped up to meet grey. Hermione felt the power struggle shift in her favor.

"Keeping tabs on me, Malfoy?"

Draco's POV

Draco clenched his jaw, holding back a retort that would have made Grangers' parents little Muggle ears pop off. As he often did at times like this, Draco tried to picture his mother's disapproving glare when she heard from Blaise that he had made a child of himself in public. Not that he had made a fool of himself in recent times.

_I am bloody well not keeping tabs on this chit. _Draco thought self-righteously. He felt his jaw twitch under the witch's scrutiny, and she had the nerve to smirk at him. She obviously thought she had ruffled his feathers, sitting across the way looking like the cat that had gotten the cream. _This is entirely unacceptable_, Draco thought as he felt his mouth open.

"I am only peripherally aware," Draco drawled, "of the fact that you didn't end up taking over Madame Pince's position at Hogwarts or something equally…conventional." Draco tempered his response, which included _sad, pathetically academic, and spinsterly,_ aware of the fact that charming, instead of angering, Granger's parents would be infinitely more amusing in the long-term.

"Hermione, dear. Why don't you switch seats with me so you can catch up with your friends? Besides I think that I might have a bit of a nap, seeing as how your father has already nodded off." Draco noted that Hermione's father had indeed dozed off while reading his daughter's book. _Even her parents find her dull. _

Hermione's mother started to get up out of her chair, ignoring Draco's internal protests and her daughter's external ones. Blaise, however, jumped on this opportunity to make his best friend and business partner squirm.

"I won't bite, Hermione, and Draco knows to behave himself in public." Blaise turned up the charm. Hermione hesitated but acquiesced to her mother's demands. Even she couldn't' ignore her matriarch, Draco noticed with childish satisfaction. That satisfaction was short-lived as he realized he was now stuck between two of the most irritating human beings in his acquaintance—his best friend and his childhood enemy.

Draco tried his best to pretend like he wasn't listening, just like he had been pretending fifteen minutes earlier that he wasn't considering stupefying Blaise and everyone on this plame for dragging him here in the first place.

Draco had spent the years following the Final Battle restoring the House of Malfoy—a responsibility that overshadowed his own personal desires and goals. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he had envied Granger her ability to drop everything and leave Wizarding Britain, while he had been forced to not only stay, but also tolerate the irritating and sometimes scathing criticism of the Post-War Wizarding society.

"Well my parents thought that I needed a bit of a holiday before going back to Wizarding Britain. They had the entire thing planned out. It was a complete surprise. I had never been to Italy, you see. And I had heard that Sardinia had some of Europe's best beaches." Hermione was apparently gushing about her recent trip. _Merlin, does she ever stop talking?_

"That would explain the lovely tan." Blaise was such an arse. "Now, Hermione, why have you stayed away so long?"

Draco frowned slightly at the familiarity with which Blaise talked to a girl who they had wholly repulsed them in school. _Okay, maybe it was mostly me who wanted to permanently Silencio her. _Either way, it was entirely inappropriate for them to be so chummy. Blaise really has turned into something of a sex addict, Draco thought acerbically. He was completely unable to differentiate between the worthy and unworthy at this point.

Draco bristled as he watched Granger blush at something Blaise had said. He—Draco Malfoy—was _right here_. Her parents were _right over there_! He was never letting Blaise do the travel plans again. This really was a plebian mode of transportation. Draco wished he could Apparate out of this stupid metal death trap. Granger leaned slightly into the aisle, and Draco suddenly felt slightly claustrophobic. They were still talking over _him_!

"What brings you back to dreary, old London?" Blaise was on, full force.

"Excuse me, Miss," The twit from earlier was walking a food cart through the aisle, her mouth pursed unpleasantly as she assessed the situation between her recent bathroom fling and the small, unremarkable woman sitting across the aisle. Thank Merlin for small miracles, Draco thought as the conversation was interrupted.

"Oh, sorry!" Granger exclaimed, as oblivious as ever to the jealous glint in the airplane woman's eye.

Being as bushy-haired and buck-toothed as she was, Draco wasn't surprised that Granger lacked experience when dealing with other women. He remembered the Yule Ball in Fourth Year, when she had entered the Great Hall. It was as if she didn't notice the envious glances and pointed whispers from the other Hogwarts girls. Even Pansy couldn't talk of anything else the entire night, much to Draco's chagrin.

At the time Draco had thought it was an act—a performance put on in order to rise above her blood station and snag Viktor Krum—but the years had proven that Granger just didn't seem to give a fuck about what people thought of her. Draco oscillated between derision and reluctant admiration for the girl's gall.

_Why is she returning to London?_

As the plane servant busied herself noisily with the refreshments, Hermione tried unsuccessfully to continue her and Blaise's conversation as if there wasn't a passive-aggressive wench between them. Draco almost laughed. She really was too polite for her own good.

"Well, as I—I am, well—I have accepted a position as Director of the Ministry's new Department of Medicinal Exploration and Development."

"Well I guess we can't _all_ be doctors." The flight attendant sniped as she shoved a cup of ice at the unfortunate man sitting behind Draco and Blaise, while glaring at the latter, who had the decency to look mildly sheepish.

Granger blushed again, confused by the woman's outburst. Was there anything that this witch _didn't_ blush at? It was unseemly for a witch of her age to be so sensitive to the things around her. She really did need to remove that stick from us her arse. _Wait, what did she say?_

"_You're_ the new Director?" Draco blurted out, with a little less dignity than he had aimed for.

Hermione bristled at his tone, or just the sound of his voice in general.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?"

He ignored her and, instead, pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to need a pain-relieving potion.

"So, I guess you two will be seeing a lot of each other," Blaise spoke up gleefully, elbowing Draco.

"Why would we be seeing a lot of each other?" Granger asked uncertainly, her face blanching.

Maybe there was still time to back out of this deal, Draco thought quickly to himself as different scenarios played out before his closed eyelids.

"Malfoy Enterprises is the major donor for your new department, Director." Blaise's tone held the distinctive sadistic glee of a person pushing someone off of the plank.

Granger flushed. Malfoy cursed.


End file.
